


Chloe and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by butterfly_gARDEN



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: BAMF Chloe Decker, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Some profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28957512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterfly_gARDEN/pseuds/butterfly_gARDEN
Summary: As if PMS wasn't bad enough, Chloe has an awful day-just an AWFUL day.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89





	Chloe and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

_“Chloe and anger. Goatherd cement ass up,”_ read the text on Lucifer’s phone.

“Bloody Hell, Daniel,” Lucifer said to himself, annoyed, “let’s add Talk to Text as another skill you don’t possess, shall we?”

The truth of the matter was, Dan Espinosa rarely called OR texted Lucifer. Even now, although they had formed an uneasy truce following the incident leading up to Chloe’s kidnapping by Lucifer’s twin brother, Michael, Dan and Lucifer rarely communicated with each other directly. So why now? Was Daniel planning on making another attempt on his life, or was this an invitation to engage in some kinky sex game? But no, he had put Chloe’s name in the “text”. Chloe! When it came right down to it, that’s really all Dan ever had to text to spur Lucifer to action. Deeply concerned, Lucifer flew to her apartment-literally.

Lucifer landed around the corner from prying eyes and shrugged back his wings, arriving at Chloe’s door at the same time that Dan, Maze? Okay,...Maze, and several unis did. Immediately, they heard the unmistakable sound of a scuffle, shouting, and then-a gunshot! Lucifer was about to kick in the door-the same door he had kicked in, panic stricken, the day he realized that Chloe had been kidnapped, but the group saw that it was ajar, so they quickly rushed in.

There, in front of them, was Chloe, handcuffing a man, shouting his Miranda rights to him. The man, a skinny gentleman with messy, dirty blond hair, sporting a black hoodie and faded jeans, was actively bleeding from his quite obviously broken nose, as well as his right knee.

“Geb me ounna here! Geb me ounna here, man! Sheena a psycho! She’d gonna kill be,” the man desperately tried to plead with his broken nose. “Please, man, she’d trynna kill be!”

Two of the unis walked over to the man and pulled him up onto his feet. He screamed in protest over the pain in his knee, “Son ubba bitch that hurs, man!”, but then limped with the unis, visibly hunched over-no doubt the recipient of one of Chloe’s infamous nut kicks-over to the EMTs standing outside.

“Unbelievable! Un. Believable!” Chloe yelled as she paced in the kitchen, “He broke into a cop’s house! A COP’S HOUSE! What kind of idiot even DOES that?! Broke. Into. A cop’s. House. And today, of all days! I’m having the worst day ever-and that IDIOT breaks into my house. All that, on top of a raging case of PMS!”

Chloe looked around the room. It was as if God had stopped time again. Everyone in the room had frozen in their tracks at the sound of the three most dreaded letters in the English language, and Maze was...Maze was _white_.

“You...,” she said, defeatedly, “you didn’t need to know the last part...”

Stashing her karambits away with trembling hands, Maze began, “Deck-,” her voice coming out in an uncharacteristically high squeak. She cleared her throat and started again, “Decker! Ya need wine?”

“OF COURSE I need wine, Maze,” Chloe shouted, “what kind of question is that? An idiot just broke into my house. At least it was a human this time and not a stupid archangel.”

At the words “of course I need wine,” Maze had vanished. Soon enough, everyone heard the sound of a motorcycle roaring up the road at a rapid rate of speed. As the remaining unis edged cautiously toward the door, Dan slowly took several steps backwards away from Chloe, hands up, palms extended. He had been married to the woman for almost ten years, and had strong survival instincts.

In the meantime, Lucifer had remained paralyzed. He had a sneaking suspicion that, despite his newly regained invulnerability around her, Chloe possessed the ability to destroy him, body and soul, in her hormonal state. But as terrified as he was, he was also somewhat bereft. He was really looking forward to having sex-quiet sex because Trixie would be there, but sex nonetheless-with the detective later that night, but now her magnificent breasts were off limits. He sighed quietly with regret. The aftereffects of his fruit-eating encounter with Eve in the garden never seemed more tragic.

Then, he realized that he had a life-saving solution on hand. The child of one of the officers at the precinct was selling candy bars as a fundraiser for their school, so the officer had brought in a few cases to help his kid out. Lucifer had bought one...case. He had agreed to stay with Trixie for a couple of hours that night so Dan and Chloe could attend her school’s Open House, so he’d stashed one of the candy bars in his suit jacket for purposes of spawn bribery later on. Oh well, road to Hell and all that…

Slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, Lucifer reached into his pocket, removed the candy bar, then, walked toward Chloe, candy bar extended. If anyone saw his hand shake, they said nothing. To his immense relief, Chloe stepped forward, a loving smile on her face, and took the candy bar before retreating behind the breakfast bar, creating a physical barrier between herself and the other occupants of the room. Within moments, she had unwrapped said candy bar and had broken off a square. Humming quietly to herself, she ate it and began to physically relax. She was not, by nature, a sweet eater. Yes, she would eat the occasional lemon bar that Lucifer procured for her, but usually, she avoided sweets-except for this time of the month. This was the time when she would raid the vending machine for a chocolate bar instead of a sandwich-and Dad help anyone who got in her way.

Dan heard footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw Detective Steve “Mack” Mackiewicz coming through the door. Quickly, Dan pointed to his watch and held up five fingers. Five minutes. Mack gave him a thumbs up and stepped outside.

Lucifer took a step forward, but Dan shook his head no and held up one finger, indicating that Lucifer should wait a minute. Chloe had broken off another square of chocolate and had taken a bite. Once she had finished the second square, Dan gave Lucifer the “go ahead” nod.

“Detective, are you okay?” Lucifer asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Mmmm, yeah, I’m fine, Lucifer,” she answered.

“There’s blood on the floor, are you sure you’re alright?” he continued.

“That’s all his,” she answered, softly, “He didn’t hurt me.”

Lucifer stepped forward, placing his hand on her lower back. “Well then, let’s sit down, shall we? Take your candy bar with you.”

Chloe allowed herself to be guided over to the couch, and Mack reentered the room, followed by Maze. Quickly, Maze opened the bottle of wine with her karambit, grabbed a goblet, and brought everything over to the coffee table. She poured a glass of wine and kept it for herself, handing Chloe the bottle.

After taking a couple gulps, Chloe said in a surprised tone, “Mack? What are YOU doing here? Don’t you have a serial killer to catch?”

“Chloe-” Mack began.

“I mean, don’t misunderstand, I’m flattered that they sent YOU to handle my case, but really? A B&E when you’ve got a psycho running around killing women?”

“Chloe-” Mack tried again.

“That’s not the best use of your time, I mean, what was the lieutenant thinking?”

“Decker!” Mack said, sharply.

In reality, Mack had a great deal of respect for Chloe; he was one of her training officers when she got promoted to detective. One of his greatest regrets in his professional life was that he never stood up for her publicly when the Palmetto St. incident went down, even though she had his support. He had gone so far as to apologize to her profusely during the aftermath, but it was still a source of great shame for him. Chloe hadn’t deserved that. He watched her take a couple more gulps of wine and center herself before he continued.

“Chloe, what happened here IS my case. The guy you just beat the shit out of-uh-took into custody?" 

"That I defended myself against?" Chloe corrected. 

Mack nodded, "That was Brad Kernicki, my suspect."

“As we all thought, he was working so fast, he was bound to make a mistake, and today, we got the break in the case that we needed while you were out at the crime scene in the dog park."

“We were checking all the traffic cam footage, because we kept seeing this dark blue sedan parked near all the crime scenes we were working, but he was very careful to park it where we couldn’t get a plate number. We had noticed that a male, about 5’10” wearing a black hoodie kept showing up in all the crime scene footage, as well as the traffic cam stuff. But he always kept his hood up, so we couldn’t get a clear image of his face. "

“Today, he screwed up. He killed Katelyn in a more remote area, and he parked his car too close to the scene. With the exception of Mr. Morningstar’s Corvette, there shouldn’t have been any civilian vehicles there because it’s a restricted access road. It’s just used by park maintenance crews, so we picked up on it right away. And, there are more CCTV cameras in the dog park than on the streets. Unbeknownst to him, when he parked behind Espinosa’s cruiser, we got a hit on his license plate, and it came back registered to him. So, we began tracking him immediately, because as you well know, he’s been killing his victims every two days. We realized that the last traffic cam hit was in front of your complex. We saw him turning in to your parking lot, and it looked like he was walking toward your unit. And, physically, you fit his victim profile-thin, 5’6” to 5’8”, long dark blond or light brown hair...He wasn’t here to steal your TV, Chloe. He was here to KILL you.”

Chloe chewed on another square of chocolate, nodding, before taking a deep breath. “Right, makes sense, you know?...Because going after a trained police officer is always a good idea,” she said, wryly.

“I didn’t say he was smart,” said Mack, “I said he was prolific.”

Chloe sat for a minute, thinking, then suddenly looked at Maze. “Wait a minute, Maze? What are YOU doing here?” There was no anger in her voice, just pure curiosity.

“Lieutenant called me. He wanted all currently unassigned bounty hunters looking for this stain. I got a lead, and it sent me straight here. You nabbed my bounty, Decker. Respect!” The look on her face was sheer pride.

“Sorry about the hit to your paycheck, Maze,” Chloe said.

“All good, Decker,” she replied, then snorted, “You really kicked his ass. Wish I coulda’ seen it,” she smirked.

“So Chloe?” said Mack, opening up his notepad, “I’m going to need a statement.”

******

To be perfectly honest, Chloe’s ‘worst day ever’ had begun the night before, when at 9:00, Trixie informed her mother that her grade level was responsible for bringing in the refreshments for the Open House, and she had signed up to bring cupcakes. That day had been a paperwork day, so Chloe had been able to pick her daughter up from school, and had actually spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with her. But in true childlike fashion, Trixie had waited until bedtime to inform her mother of this important detail. So, Chloe ended up in her kitchen with a box of cake mix she’d fortunately discovered in the back of one of her cabinets, creating gluten-filled, Keto-hostile cholesterol-laden death cakes, bound together with eggs created by a chicken who had never seen sunlight or blue sky. Oh, the staff of Starford Acadamy would have been HORRIFIED!!! (She giggled to herself at the image.) This meant that at 11:00, Chloe was still in her kitchen smearing hydrogenated trans fat, refined sugar, artificially colored and flavored... _pink_ _shit_...all over the tops of the cupcakes rather than going to bed.

“Have kids, they said. Children are our greatest joy, they said,” Chloe muttered, slathering pink shit on top of a hapless cupcake. “Children are a blessing from God. Well, you know what? I’ve MET God. And trust me, what God calls a ‘blessing’ is what WE call a PRACTICAL JOKE.” Angrily, she slammed down the knife, and placed the cupcake in the container with its siblings. Soon after, she finished cleaning up the kitchen, turned on the dishwasher, and finally went to bed.

When her alarm clock, sweet herald of the dawn, woke her at 6:00am, she was bloated, her breasts were sore, and she was still exhausted. _I’m in for a very long day_ , she thought to herself, sadly, as she opted for chino pants and a loose-fitting white tee shirt. No skinny jeans for Chloe for a few days.

Blearily, Chloe made her way downstairs and into the kitchen. However, when she grabbed the carafe to her coffee maker, she accidently hit it on the edge of the sink, and it immediately shattered into a million pieces, leaving Chloe devastated. It was absolutely heartrending when Lucifer had said “goodbye” to her on his balcony and left for Hell, presumably for good. Losing the carafe to her coffee maker was ten times worse.

After cleaning up the mess, she woke up Trixie, and got her ready for school. Trixie was absolutely delighted with the pink cupcakes her mother had made...the same cupcakes she left behind, forgotten, on the counter when she left for school, ran back to retrieve, and thereby ended up missing the school bus. Chloe just grabbed her badge and gun, grabbed her daughter and the cupcakes, and barely got them to school on time. This left her no time to stop by a coffee shop or bodega, so, by the time that Chloe had gotten to the precinct, she was frustrated, sleep deprived, and uncaffeinated.

Chloe got to her desk, sat down, and took a cleansing breath, just one tiny reprieve for herself before starting her day. Reaching into her shirt pocket, she lovingly withdrew her bullet necklace, since she didn’t have time to put it on at home. As she slipped it around her neck, however, she dropped it, sending it sliding under her desk. Sighing, she knelt down to retrieve it.

“Good morning, Detective!” said Lucifer, cheerily, holding a tall lowfat soymilk latte with sugar-free caramel drizzle.

At the sound of his voice, Chloe sat back on her heels, and promptly banged her head on the desk.

“Detective!” Lucifer gasped, bending down to help her up and into her chair. “Dearie me, are you okay?”

“I’ll be okay, Lucifer,” Chloe replied, holding her head in both hands, “something tells me that you didn’t create THESE stars, though.”

“No, that’s on you, I’m afraid.” It was then that Lucifer noticed that Chloe was clutching her bullet necklace in one hand. “Here, Detective, let me put that on for you.”

After Lucifer had clasped the necklace, Chloe looked over and saw the coffee sitting on her desk. “Oh, Lucifer! Thank you so much! I broke the carafe to my coffee maker this morning, and I really needed a cup of coffee!” Reaching over, she grabbed the elixir of life and brought it to her lips...aaaaand the lid wasn’t on completely. Instantly, Chloe was baptized in coffee.

“Oh, Detective!” Lucifer exclaimed, sadly, “I’m so sorry! I should have checked to see if the lid was on tight enough. You poor thing! You are having such a bad day, aren’t you!”

“It...it’s not your fault, Lucifer,” Chloe comforted, “It’s just something that happens sometimes. And...and I’m so grateful that you TRIED to bring me coffee. Really, it means a lot, you know?” She smiled at him, and he returned the smile gently.

As Chloe went into the rest room to clean herself up, she realized that in the early morning chaos, she had forgotten to put on a blazer. There were two reasons why she always wore a blazer at work. First of all, she did so out of professionalism. There was a certain look that was expected for her to maintain while she was working. Most of the detectives wore similar clothing, usually with a blazer or jacket. But the other reason Chloe wore blazers was because the air conditioning vent directly above her desk was relentlessly brutal. Even in the midst of an L.A. heatwave, the air around Chloe’s desk could rival Antarctica. So now, Chloe was clad in a white, basically see-through shirt, looking for all the world like she had just earned first place in a wet tee shirt competition, in the middle of a male-dominated workplace, freezing to death.

Soon enough, however, Chloe’s gooseflesh-riddled arms were encased in a soft wool jacket. While she had been in the rest room, Lucifer had stepped out and bought her another coffee. Upon his return, however, he noticed Chloe’s physical state and immediately began to take care of her.

“Thank you, Lucifer,” she smiled, “Have I told you how much I love you, today?” She actually got a sip of her coffee, this time. In the back of her mind, she wondered what Lucifer did to the poor barista who dared to do a poor job putting the lid on her first cup of coffee, but thankfully,THIS lid was here to stay.

“And I you, Detective,” he smiled back at her.

“Decker! You’re up. Body drop at the dog park,” said her lieutenant.

“Yes sir, we’re on it,” she answered, taking the files from his hands.

As she placed the newest files on her desk, she realized with great annoyance that the stack of files on the side of her desk had grown exponentially from the day before. She had finished up all the paperwork from her recent cases, so the only files that should have been there were the ones from the cold cases she would look over from time to time. Regardless, she placed the new case files in the middle of her desk and grabbed her car keys.

Katelyn Kennedy had been stabbed to death at the dog park, her death precisely resembling the ones from the six earlier victims. Not that anyone wanted to use the cliché, but the LAPD literally had a race against time on their hands. The killer struck every two days, which meant that they would have another crime scene imminently. The women shared a similar body type and general physical appearance, but that was the only discernible connection to the other victims. So far, the police were unable to find any apparent relationship between them. Some were gay, some were straight, some married, some single, some childless, some not. Some were murdered in their homes, some at their workplaces, some at places of recreation.

So far, the LAPD was stymied; the profilers were having difficulty developing anything useful, other than the fact that the perpetrator was a very angry individual, possibly a jilted lover, or a disgruntled...something. The only other information the LAPD had was that the perp seemed to insinuate himself into the crowds at the various crime scenes, therefore apparently owned a police scanner. He also stalked his victims, to some degree.

After receiving the initial report from Ella, who was clearly at the end of her rope with the whole case, Chloe began her scene survey, and immediately stepped in dog shit. Of course, she stepped in dog shit. It was THAT kind of day, wasn’t it? Most of the dog owners were very responsible and cleaned up after their pooches. In life, Katelyn was that kind of dog owner, the pooper scooper and ubiquitous plastic bag were found near her left hand. Apparently, her last thoughts were about her little pug. In her final moments, as Ella pointed out, she had managed to drag herself over and slip the leash around her right wrist so her pug wouldn’t run away. Doggies doo doo what doggies have to doo doo, so the poor little thing had done his business before huddling next to his mommy.

After being reassured that Animal Control had been notified, Chloe looked for the closest watering station, needing to hose off the poop that was stuck between the treads of her boot. The closest station was the one with the loose hose nozzle, of course, so as Chloe turned on the water, she was drenched thoroughly before she could tighten the nozzle and get to work. _This day cannot end soon enough_ , she thought to herself, powerwashing her boot clean. Noticing a plastic bowl near the hose, she filled it and brought it over to the little pug. Just because SHE was having a bad day didn’t mean that she couldn’t help a defenseless animal…

No PDA at work. There was nothing more that Lucifer wanted to do at that moment than to put his arms around his poor, wet detective. Instead, he smiled at her sadly and shook his head as she brought the water over to the dog.

Once back at the precinct, Chloe hadn’t even sat down before the lieutenant called out for her. Once in his office, he began to verbally reprimand her for the “deplorable” condition of some paperwork. He shoved a file toward her angrily.

Like many others in his position, this lieutenant had a habit of looking over case files sitting on various officers’ desks. Given the various scandals that had hit the department over recent years, it wasn’t surprising. What WAS surprising, however, was the fact that he looked at one of the files on Chloe’s desk without checking the name of the lead detective. Given the state of the file itself, he should have known that it didn’t wasn’t her work.

Chloe felt personally affronted. She was meticulous about her paperwork-meticulous! She always crossed every “t”, dotted every “I”, took paperwork home, even, to prepare it thoroughly. The District Attorney loved her; defense attorneys, not so much. How could this man even CONSIDER the idea that she would prepare deplorable paperwork!

Before a volcano erupts, several geophysical signs indicate that the eruption is imminent. One of these signs is the release of steam from superheated water trapped within the volcano. At this moment, a fissure opened up in hormonal Mount Chloe, allowing steam to escape.

“With all due respect, Sir,” she began, firmly, staring at the lieutenant with a stony glare, “This is NOT my case. I had nothing to DO with this case. I didn’t even CHECK PHONE RECORDS for this case. I am in no way responsible for the condition of this file. I don’t deserve to be reprimanded.” She glanced down at the file again. “Wait,...this is one of Baker’s cases. See? Look at the name under ‘lead investigator’.”

“Well, what was it doing on your desk then?” sneered the lieutenant.

“Well, Sir, I believe that discussion should be between you and Baker, don’t you agree? You have been supervising us very closely since you arrived here. So surely, you must have picked up on the fact that Baker always palms his paperwork off on other officers, yes? And that very often, his target is ME? Apparently, female officers are his personal secretaries. Surely you are aware of that, yes?”

“When I left work yesterday, ALL my paperwork was completed. The only files I had remaining on my desk were from two cold cases. Today, that stack of files doubled in size. Might I suggest you check the CCTV footage and find the culprit?” she stared at the lieutenant.

The lieutenant looked at her in shock. Detective Decker never spoke like this-not to her superior officers. Never. But then again, Detective Decker’s paperwork was always impeccable, and he knew that. He KNEW that. She was a consumate professional. Lucifer? Not necessarily. Decker? Always. Eventually, his face softened and he nodded his head.

Smiling, he said, “I’ll get to the bottom of this, Decker. Dismissed.”

Minutes later, as she and Lucifer were going over the case files, she heard the lieutenant bellow, “Baker! My office, NOW.”

At some point, the lieutenant had texted Lucifer and inquired after Chloe’s coffee order, because the next time she looked up, he had come over, removed the rest of Baker’s files, and very contritely apologized to her, while placing a tall, lowfat almond milk latte with sugar-free caramel drizzle in front of her...which Dan immediately knocked over when he handed her Katelyn’s phone records.

“Not my day,” she muttered as she, Lucifer, and Dan moved quickly to save and blot the files on her desk, “NOT my day.”

Once everything was dried and sorted, Lucifer looked at the clock. “Detective? Shouldn’t you be leaving now to release your spawn from prison?”

She looked up at the clock and sighed. “Yeah, but I’m almost afraid to go. With how my day’s been going, I’m afraid I’m going to end up in a-”

 _BAM!_ The Karen behind her was so preoccupied with her most recent text message that she failed to notice that the long line of cars in front of her had stopped for a red light. Fully believing that the best defense was a good offense, the Karen got her bleach blonde, nipped, tucked, and lifted self out of her Mercedes and huffed her way over to Chloe, pointing manicured fingers and insinuating that accident was Chloe’s fault.

Another steam vent opened up in Mount Chloe as she slowly, deliberately rose from the driver’s seat and towered over the Karen.

“See my trunk, Ma’am?” Chloe asked the Karen. “I can’t open my trunk right now. Do you know what that means? It means that I don’t have access to my AR-15. If a sniper opens fire in the middle of a crowded space, or a bank heist goes down, I CAN’T HELP YOU. I can’t protect you.”

“I don’t have access to my first aid kit, or my Narcan. If your loved one is lying on the ground, unresponsive due to a heroin overdose, I CAN’T HELP THEM. I can’t even give you a Bandaid if your shoes give you a blister on your toe.”

“If you or one of your loved ones goes into cardiac arrest, I CAN’T HELP YOU. My AED is in my trunk. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? You have disabled me, as a police officer. I CAN’T PROTECT OR SERVE.”

What she didn’t mention was that her hanging file filled with on-scene forms and requisitions was also in her trunk. While Chloe could-and would-grab a clipboard and fill it full of the necessary forms, there was a higher principle at stake. Chloe was extremely well organized, both at work and at home; she had to be. Between raising a child and an extremely demanding job, she couldn’t waste precious time looking for things. Her apartment was always spotless. Her desk at the precinct, while cluttered, always had a semblance of order. Her hanging files in the trunk made her more efficient on scene-all she had to do was grab the necessary paperwork; it was all there. She had a specific methodology that worked for her, and it had been needlessly compromised.

“See the dashcam in my car? The LAPD got a grant. Do you know what they did with the money? Every vehicle is now outfitted with dashcams that record action within 360 degrees of the car. When my dashcam is downloaded, along with the footage from the traffic cam, it’s going to confirm what I witnessed every time I checked my rearview mirror. YOU were driving distracted. YOU were texting on your phone. Are you REALLY going to stand there and accuse ME of causing the accident?”

Lucifer Morningstar had the ability to reduce suspects into quivering masses of fear and trembling. Chloe Decker had similar abilities. By the time the responding traffic cops arrived on scene, she had calmly, oh so professionally explained to the Karen exactly why driving distracted and rear-ending unmarked police cars is never a good idea, leaving her a quivering mass of contrition.

The accident could not have happened at a worse time; the family schedule was tight that afternoon. Chloe had to get Trixie and get her to her best friend’s birthday party for 4:00. When the party was booked, the parents didn’t know what the school schedule was going to be like, of course, and unfortunately, Open House was scheduled for that same night. The original plan was for Chloe to drop Trixie off, Dan would pick up Trixie at 6:00, grab their Chinese food order for dinner, Lucifer would stop by for dinner and then stay with Trixie until Dan and Chloe returned. The timing was tight, but it was doable. Perhaps the schedule was salvageable?

Chloe quickly called Dan and explained the situation. Once Chloe had assured Dan that she was uninjured, he was more than willing to pick up Trixie, stop by the apartment to grab the gift, and get her to the party. Originally, Chloe had planned on putting the birthday gift in her car, but the morning was so chaotic, she hadn’t had time to do it. Now she was grateful she didn’t; Trixie could still give Ana her gift. Priorities.

By the time she was able to clear the accident scene and take the car to Fleet Maintenance at the precinct for a once-over to begin the repair process, it was well after 4:00. At least, Maintenance was able to get her trunk latch to work! Exhausted, she pulled into her parking lot at home, believing she would have a few minutes to herself-just enough time lto fill out the accident report online. But, walking up to her door, her gut was telling her that something was very wrong. Her door was locked, nothing seemed out of place, but she had that feeling…the feeling that cops rely on to stay alive.

Quickly, Chloe entered the code on her newly-installed biometric lock, and stepped inside, her Glock already drawn. “LAPD,” she announced, edging her way along the entryway wall toward the kitchen, “Come out, hands where I can see them.”

As she got to the kitchen side of the breakfast bar, Kernicki came out from under the bar, lunged and grabbed at her from the left side, the same way Michael had grabbed her not that long ago...and Mount Chloe ERUPTED. Mount Vesuvius, Mount Etna, Krakatoa, none of these were as powerful as Mount Chloe when she was attacked in the sanctuary of her own home.

With her right hand still clutched around her gun, Chloe swung and punched Kernicki in the face, his nose making a satisfying crack when the handle of the gun made contact.

As Kernicki staggered back holding his nose, Chloe escaped his grasp, whirled around, and pointed her gun at him. Before she could command him to get on the ground, Kernicki lunged at her again, undeterred, at which point Chloe kicked him hard in the crotch with her boot...her steel-toed work boot...and Kernicki collapsed onto the floor.

“STAY DOWN! DOWN ON THE FLOOR-ALL THE WAY!” Chloe commanded, but Kernicki misunderstood her. When she shouted “STAY DOWN’, Kernicki thought she’d said, “Get up and lunge at me again,” so he complied. At THIS point, Chloe shot him in the knee. THIS time, Kernicki stayed down.

Chloe cuffed him and began reciting his Miranda rights, as her would-be rescuers charged through the door.

******

“Strong work, Decker!” said Mack, as he closed his notebook. For some reason, Dan had looked into the kitchen from his position leaning against the breakfast bar, and he happened to notice the large bowie knife lying on the floor. Apparently, Kernicki had lost it during the struggle.

“Oh my GOD!” Dan exclaimed, then ran to the door. “Hey, Ramos? Can you grab me an evidence bag? Thanks!”

After Ramos had handed him the bag, Dan placed the knife inside, then handed it to Mack.

“Twelve-inch Bowie knife, just like Lopez said. She’s going to have a field day processing THIS.” Mack looked over at Chloe, “Are you sure you don’t need to be checked out for injuries?”

“No no, I’m fine, he didn’t hurt me,” Chloe replied. “But what I want to know is, how did he get into my apartment?”

“You’re not going to like the answer to that,” replied Mack. Taking a breath, he continued,”When we got the hit on his name, we found out where he worked. He’s a locksmith, Chloe. He works with all kinds of locks, but his specialty is biometrics.”

Beside her, Lucifer hissed and said, “Oh, Detective!” very softly. After Lucifer had broken down her door the day he found she’d been kidnapped, all of Chloe’s locks had been changed out by the landlord when they made the repairs.

“That’s how he met his victims,” Mack continued, “We’ve been back-checking everyone’s bank and credit card statements, and sure enough. The one thing they had in common was that they used the locksmith company he works for. Pretty disgusting, you know? You rely on that guy to make sure you’re safe in your own home, and he does THIS. Major betrayal, if you ask me.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

Satisfied, Mack collected the murder weapon and Chloe’s gun-standard protocol-and took his leave.

Maze also stood up and took her leave. “Decker! Glad you’re not dead!,” she called out on her way out the door.

Dan glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I should go get Trixie, now that the excitement’s over.” He stood to leave, tucking the dinner order into his pocket.

“Okay, Dan, thank you,” said Chloe. “Say ‘hi’ to Gretchen and Suzette for me.”

“Will do,” Dan replied.

Funny thing, that. Dan had met Gretchen when she joined his improv group, and through Gretchen, he had met Suzette. She and Suzette had just moved to L.A. because Suzette had received a job offer that was far too good to pass up. Since Gretchen worked from home, it wasn’t going to affect her career at all. The couple believed in having “me” time as well as “we” time, so Gretchen had started going to improv. Neither she nor Dan went to improv that much, anymore, but the friendship continued.

She and Dan had discovered that they each had a daughter, and they were the same age. Their daughter, Ana, was going to be starting at Trixie’s school as a new student. Dan had suggested that they introduce the two girls, because Ana would at least know SOMEONE. “New kid” status was difficult.

On the first day of school, Dan met up with Gretchen and Suzette as they waited by their cars for school to get out. To their surprise, Trixie and Ana walked up to the three of them together. It turned out that Trixie, bless her heart, had noticed Ana on the playground, standing off to the side by herself. So, Trixie had walked up to her, taken her by the hand, and immediately brought her over to join her friends. Soon after, Chloe was introduced to them, and the four parents became fast friends. So, when Chloe asked Dan to pick up Trixie and take her to the party, he didn’t mind at all.

Dan’s original idea had been to take Trixie to the party and hang out with Gretchen and Suzette until the party was over, but Kernicki had other plans. Dan had only been at the party for about ten minutes when he got the call from Dispatch.

“Duty calls?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be back to pick Trixie up later.”

Fortunately, his friends didn’t ask any questions, so he made a quick getaway. He didn’t have to tell them that Chloe’s life might be in danger.

He and Chloe weren’t married anymore, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t love her dearly. She wasn’t just the mother of his child, she was his closest friend. If anything ever happened to her, Dan doubted that he’d ever be able to forgive himself-Dr. Linda Martin or not. Quickly, he threw on his lights and sirens, sent a quick text to Lucifer, and drove his cruiser like he stole it.

Now, with everything sorted out at Chloe’s apartment, he was going to resume the original plan-pick up Trixie, pick up the Chinese food, and go to the Open House with his very much alive ex wife.

******

Now that everyone else had left, Lucifer and Chloe were alone together in her apartment. Before she knew it, Chloe was wrapped in his arms-one hand on the small of her back, one hand on the back of her head. The Lucifer hug. The hug that made her feel so safe, that nothing could ever harm her. It was amazing how well they fit together when they embraced, her head just tall enough to tuck under his chin. They were like two pieces of a puzzle-like they were made for each other. Heh.

“Detective, I almost lost you,” Lucifer said, quietly.

“It’s okay, Lucifer, I’m fine, it all worked out,” Chloe replied.

“i’m so sorry,” he continued, “if I hadn’t kicked in your door, I wouldn’t have put your life in danger.”

Chloe leaned back so she could look at him. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek, saying, “Lucifer, you didn’t know. NONE of us knew. How could we? Please, PLEASE don’t blame yourself. If he hadn’t gone after me, he would have attacked someone else. We know that, now. It’s not your fault, and I will never blame you.”

“But you wouldn’t have needed new locks if I hadn’t-”

“Lucifer, listen to me. The management of this complex has been changing out ALL the locks with biometrics. My building was going to be done next month. They just swapped my locks out early because of what happened with my door. Kernicki would have been here eventually, anyway-even if you HADN’T kick my door. And think of how many other women would have been murdered in the meantime.”

“Think of it, Lucifer. I was better trained, better equipped to take Kernicki down. If you hadn’t broken my doorframe, none of this would have happened. Don’t you see? We saved lives and stopped a killer, like we always do. We were an accidental sting.”

Lucifer smiled at her and drew her in, again. “Silver lining, Detective?”

“Mmmm, yeah,” she said.

Lucifer sensed an unresolved tension in her voice. “Something else is bothering you, Detective?” he asked as he gently pulled her away to look at her face.

“No. No it’s...nothing, Lucifer. It’s stupid,” she answered.

Brushing a loose strand of hair out of Chloe’s face and tucking it behind her ear, Lucifer said, “If it matters to you, it matters to me.”

“Well, um,...in the struggle, Kernicki knocked my Ipod off the counter and stepped on it. I think it’s broken.”

“Detective! I can buy you another one, you needn’t get upse-”

“No, Lucifer! I-I don’t want another Ipod. I want THAT Ipod.” Now, she was full-on crying. Damn hormones! “See?” she sniffed, “I told you it was stupid.”

Oh. THAT Ipod. When Lucifer had left for Hell, Chloe noticed that he had left letters for everyone on the bar, including one for Trixie. The next night, everyone gathered in the penthouse, and Chloe had handed them out. Maze took hers, scoffed, and ripped it up without reading it. In hindsight, Chloe couldn’t help but wonder if a lot of issues she and Lucifer had when he returned would have been resolved if she’d bothered to read it, but that was a lot of white water rapids under the bridge.

She didn’t know what Linda and Amenadiel did with their letters, but Trixie had put hers in her scrapbook. Chloe had taken the wedding photo of her and Dan, both in their class A uniforms at City Hall with the Justice of the Peace who married them, out of its ornate silver frame (you know, the ubiquitous frame that everybody receives as a wedding gift), and replaced it with Lucifer’s letter, before setting it on her nightstand.

But with Chloe’s letter was a small gift that he’d left her, as well...an Ipod. Lucifer had filled one track with her favorite Sweet 90’s Jams; another track was Lucifer playing the piano at Lux. The sound quality wasn’t that good; it was recorded at a bustling nightclub, after all, but the songs were ones that Chloe had loved. THAT Ipod. THAT Ipod could never be replaced. THAT Ipod was something Chloe cherished.

Lucifer got it. He did. His penthouse was filled with items that museum curators and archeologists would call ‘artifacts’. Lucifer’s term for them was ‘mementos’. Most of the items in his home were gifts from people he had met throughout his long life-first edition books signed by the authors, carved wooden horse statues gifted by emperors, etc. The item ITSELF wasn’t what made the item priceless, but the memory behind the item. The Detective wanted THAT Ipod. It had meaning; it was precious to her.

“No, Detective, that’s not stupid at all. That Ipod is special to you. I understand. You know, though, those little Ipods are a lot tougher than they look. Maybe it still works. Shall we try?”

Sniffing, Chloe nodded her head, and Lucifer went into the kitchen to retrieve it. Oh dear Dad, it was lying in blood. Temporarily distracted, Lucifer grabbed some cleaners and wiped up the entire floor where the scuffle had taken place. He was NOT going to make his detective clean up after that vile miscreant.

Back on task, Lucifer removed the earbuds from the Ipod and thoroughly washed them with hydrogen peroxide, ever grateful that the detective kept her first aid supplies in easy reach. To his relief, none of the wires were snapped, and the earbuds themselves weren’t crushed. He plugged them into his phone to check them out. Right bud, left bud, yes!

“Your earbuds still work, Detective,” he said, placing them in her ears. Immediately, Chloe heard the beautiful piano music coming from Lucifer’s phone.

“Is that you playing?” she asked.

“Well, yes, I suppose it is,” he answered.

“I love Chopin,” she said, smiling now.

“Do you really, Detective? I had no idea.”

“In the evenings, after dinner, my dad and I would sit outside and watch the sunset. He’d always have piano music playing in the background. It was our ritual, you know? Our peaceful time together. Sometimes we’d talk, but a lot of times we just sat together.”

“That sounds lovely,” he said wistfully. If only he had moments like that with his OWN Father!

“There was this one time, we were at the beach house. There was a full moon out and it was reflecting off the waves. It made them look like they had silver tips. And we were listening to Debussy’s _Clair de Lune_ at the time. It was almost magical, Lucifer. So pretty.”

“That is a special memory, Detective. I’m glad you have memories like that of your father.” He blinked the unshed tears away, cleared his throat and said, “Now for the main event. Shall we?”

The Ipod case was cracked and bloodstained, but Lucifer was relieved to see that nothing had shattered. Quickly, he cleaned it off and plugged the earbuds in. It worked! Smiling gently at his detective, he handed the Ipod over to her, and watched her smile as she heard the music. She was able to switch tracks, was able to shuffle, etc. Kernicki may have temporarily destroyed her peace of mind, but he didn’t destroy her memento.

Once again, Chloe was in his arms. “See, Detective? All is not lost. You have another silver lining. In fact, I dare say that that cloud is downright silver-plated.”

That earned him a snort, much to his delight. He continued, “My poor detective! You had such a rough day. How about I draw you a bubble bath after your urchin is in bed? You can have a nice long soak with a glass of wine and wash away the effects of the day?”

“Mmmmm,” Chloe hummed her assent.

“And afterwards, maybe I can massage your back with that orange blossom oil you like so much?”

“Mmmmm, sound wonderful, Lucifer.” He felt her smile against his chest.

“It’s a date, then, Detective,” he said, rocking her.

They were a couple, now. So when Dan and Trixie showed up with the food, they didn’t jump away from each other, embarrassed. They just stepped back slowly and prepared for dinner.

Over the course of dinner, Chloe recounted everything that had happened to her that day, and Trixie had immediately dubbed it a ‘Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day’, a reference to one of her favorite books from her earlier years. No one disagreed with her.

After a pause, Lucifer pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Question for you, Daniel.”

Dan looked at him nervously. “Hmm?”

“What on EARTH is goatherd cement, and why would I even desire to stick my derriere in it?” Lucifer held his phone out so everyone could read the text.

_"Chloe and anger. Goatherd cement ass up."_

“Oh Go-” Dan sputtered, “Aw Man...It’s supposed to say, _‘Chloe in danger. Go. To. Her. Apartment. ASAP’_.”

“Not quite,” said Lucifer, as everyone laughed.

“Aw come on, Man, I had to use Talk to Text, I was driving HOT”

“What’s driving hot, Daddy?”

“Lights and sirens, Monkey. I was trying to keep Mommy safe from the bad guy,” he looked at his ex wife proudly, “But I guess I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, Mommy got him all by herself, ‘cause she’s a BADASS!”

“TRIXIE!” her exasperated parents cried, facepalming. Lucifer covered his mouth with his napkin to suppress his chortles. Trixie sat grinning, without a shred of remorse.

The rest of the meal proceeded pleasantly enough. Mount Chloe was going dormant, again. Oh, there would be the occasional steam vent occurring over the next couple of days, but for the most part, the volcano was settling down. So when the mouthful of chicken lo mein plunged to its death off of Chloe’s chopsticks, landing on her shirt before tumbling into her lap, leaving a trail of soy sauce and peanut oil in its wake, Chloe just sighed in defeat. It was official: Chloe Jane Decker had no more fucks to give.

Excusing herself, she went upstairs to clean herself up. The other three people at the table had the good sense not to laugh until she was well out of earshot.

Finally, Dan spoke up. “So, as you know, Chloe and I have that Open House to go to tonight.”

“I am well aware, Daniel, I’m here because I agreed to watch the spawn.”

Brushing off the snarky comment, Dan continued, “So anyway, I was wondering-”

Dan was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass coming from the upstairs bathroom, punctuated by Chloe yelling, “MOTHERFLUNKER!”-or at least, that’s what they insisted she said.

Not knowing at that moment if they were going to the E.R. or the Open House, Dan finished his thought, “So I was wondering...do you have any more of those candy bars left, Man?”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I took a stab (heh, get it?) at what might be inside Chloe's trunk, based on some research I did.
> 
> 1\. Ever since the rather notorious Bank of America heist in 1997, when responding officers found themselves up against two men armed with modified automatic weapons, LAPD now carry AR-15s in their vehicles.
> 
> 2\. Some LAPD officers carry Narcan. I imagine, being the kind and caring person that Chloe is, she would be one of those officers.
> 
> 3\. Some officers have AEDs with them. I imagine that Chloe, who the show often depicts performing First Responder aid, would carry an AED in her trunk.
> 
> I have no idea if the LAPD has installed 360 degree dashcams in their vehicles, but many police departments are doing so, so I had one installed in Chloe's vehicle.


End file.
